


Variantale: Snowfall Chapter 3

by TychoAzrephet



Series: Variantale [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Conflict, Magic, Monologue, Multi, Slow Build, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:45:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TychoAzrephet/pseuds/TychoAzrephet
Summary: Any semblance of civility between Sans and Frisk finally breaks down, leading to a rather one sided fight with a few close calls for both of them, things start looking quite grim for Frisk until an unexpected turn of events occurs...





	Variantale: Snowfall Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this is the third chapter of my Undertale AU story, Variantale. In this entry we finally get actual combat between Sans and Frisk, unfortunately for our human ex-protagonist, they don't have a prayer against Sans with an extra ten years of practice on his side. However, taking down his quarry might prove harder than Sans originally predicted, when Frisk starts displaying some odd behavior close to death. 
> 
> I'm excited to get to actual fighting between these characters, there's going to be a lot more of it in the coming chapters, and this when things start getting quite interesting. 
> 
> Please enjoy and be sure to read the previous chapters if you haven't already, stay tuned for future installments. 
> 
> Thank you. :) :3
> 
> -Tycho

Sans snapped his right fingers, conjuring a wave of bones and launching them at Frisk, leaving trails of faint blue light as they speed towards their target. Frisk ducked down well in advance, jumping back up after the bones whistled harmlessly overhead, their expression grim as they awaited Sans’ follow up attack. Instead, Sans simply flicked his fingers towards his own chest, no new assault materializing behind him. Frisk blinked in confusion, a half second before they were struck in the back by three bone projectiles, the impact driving them to their knees as they let out a yelp of pain. Sans chuckled cruelly as the remaining bones of his first attack returned and swirled around him like vultures above carrion, slowly forming together into a tight cluster, dozens of bones of varying lengths aimed straight at the human as they shakily climbed to their feet. Frisk could feel the sinister magic Sans employed spread like a searing affliction over their skin, a chilling burn that slowly sapped at their vitality, even a glancing blow would take a deceptive toll. Sans smirked as he watched Frisk grit their teeth against the injury, lowering his bundle of bones down to head height, imparting a latent spell upon the core that gradually built in intensity.  “Shoulda warned ya ‘bout that, kid, my bad. Bone magic has a certain...affinity, for me. Seems no matter how hard I toss em’ out, they always come crawlin’ back.”  he said, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture, his leering grin dripping with insincerity. Frisk glared at him impassibly, settling into a defensive stance, they wouldn’t be caught off guard like that again. Or, so they thought. 

With an almost casual wave of his hand, Sans sent the cluster of bones lurching towards Frisk, not nearly matching the speed of his initial attack. Frisk was leery, confident they could easily sidestep the mass, but suspicious of Sans implementing another trick. This paranoia proved well founded as the cluster of bones drifted lazily to an almost complete halt a few feet in front  of them, a shrieking instinct warning Frisk to take cover just as the cluster exploded in a deafening burst of magic, flinging out bones in every direction. Frisk rolled deftly to the side as bone shrapnel hurtled towards them, zipping dangerously close to their exposed skin as they huddled into a smaller target, listening for the rain of fragments to come to a stop. After a moment, they raised their head to see Sans staring them down gloatingly, arms crossed and snickering at the sight of Frisk clutching to the snow coated ground for safety.  “Oh yeah, probably should’ve told ya ‘bout the whole bone-bomb thing too. What can I say, kid? I’m just  _ bursting _ with new tricks.”  Sans said, chuckling and shining his nonexistent fingernails, shifting his stance as Frisk rose and began moving forward to challenge his position. Sans squared his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, the flame of his left eye flaring bright, his soul pulsing blue with a familial magic. He reached a hand out and directed the spell towards Frisk’s soul, the human stumbling to a stop and nearly collapsing under a sudden, oppressive weight. They clutched a hand to their chest arduously, immediate panic setting in as they recognized the familiar grip of blue magic, their eyes widening in terror as Sans lifted them clear off their feet to hang in mid air. The skeleton cackled darkly as Frisk struggled in the grip of his spell, every twitch of his fingers causing their body to rotate slightly, he left them completely inverted and glared into their frightened eyes.  “This is more like it, eh sport? A nice, classic blue attack, really brings back memories don’t it? Just like ol’ times…”  he said, his voice wistful as it was malicious, slamming Frisk against the ground and summoning forth a bed of bones with one smooth motion. 

Frisk barely had enough time recover and avoid the full brunt of the attack, bones shooting upwards through the snow and grazing past their legs, the brief second of contact sending agonizing magic shooting through their limbs. Sans wasted no time in following up, as Frisk dove towards him to avoid the searing bones, he stood aside and flung out his hand in the direction of the treeline. The constricting blue magic sent Frisk skittering and stumbling over the ice, hard pressed to stay upright as they rapidly dodged clusters of bones, occasionally clipped by attacks that formed askew. By the time Sans relented and allowed them to skid to a stop, Frisk was left battered and shuddering from various scrapes and abrasions, still clutching their knife like some sort of protective charm. They looked over their shoulder at Sans, still sporting his maniacal grin as he casually shoved his hands back into their pockets, cocking his skull to the side as he appraised Frisk’s condition.  “Geez kid, you’re rustier than I woulda thought. I was barely trying with those, and I’ve seen you dodge bones like Grillby dodges small talk.”  he said dryly, taking a few steps forward and giving Frisk an amiable smirk, pale eye’s drawn magnetically to the gleam of their knife.  “Tell ya what, seein’ as I came into this little scrap with a bit of an... _ edge _ , I’ll give ya one free move. Go ahead, kid, gimme your best shot. I’ll just... _ stand here and take it,  _ scouts honor.”  he continued, raising his right hand to his chest in some sort of strange oath, standing perfectly still and daring Frisk with a glowering wink. Frisk slowly turned to face the skeleton, their breathing steadily growing shallower as Sans’ arcane poison leached away their strength and resolve, their knife suddenly felt heavy and unwieldy. An insidious, sobering thought crept through their mind, the realization that they truly were hopelessly out of practice. It had been so long since they’d actually used their knife against anything more dangerous than tree branches, their instincts had dulled, their  _ level of violence _ unused and abandoned. Sans though...Frisk felt their heart sink just looking at their jovial adversary, he had spent every minute of the past decade readying himself for this moment, up to this point he’d just been toying with them. If Sans was giving them a free move...Frisk cast a furtive glance towards the treeline, the dense thicket obscuring anything only a few yards away. Maybe they could lose him in the forest. 

Frisk slowly and deliberately settled into an attack stance, holding their knife with the spine pressed against their forearm, ready to dart forward and deliver a lightning quick slash. Sans watched them expectantly, seemingly eager for Frisk to finally retaliate, subtly shifting from one foot to the other in anticipation. Just as Frisk was poised to lunge forward, they spun on their heels and set into a sprint towards the treeline, thoughts only on putting as much distance between themselves and Sans as possible. At any moment, they expected bone attacks to come whipping past their head, clusters to burst forth from the ground with their every step. Instead, they ate up the distance without incident, forty feet...thirty...fifteen, Frisk resisted the urge to glance nervously over their shoulder. All that mattered was making it to the trees…

They were within ten feet before the first tremor almost knocked them to the ground, the earth sundered by an earsplitting crack as the edge of the field was torn apart, a wall of titanic bones rising and interlocking to block off the forest. Frisk turned round to see the massive fence spiral outwards to surround the entire clearing, the colossal bones looming over the human imposingly, their stomach dropping as warped shadows stretched over the ice at their feet. As the final bone settled into place, a deathly silence followed while Frisk surveyed the new arena, gaze settling reluctantly on Sans. The skeleton hadn’t moved an inch from the center of the field, hands enwreathed in crackling blue light, his eye sockets totally hollow as he stared back at Frisk. For the first time since their torrid encounter began, Sans’ smile had slipped, his face contorting into something akin to a grimace. He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers, a fleet of hundreds of bones manifesting into existence along the wall to his back, forming into a complex web of dizzying shapes and patterns. Sans’ mouth lifted curtly, launching the bones forward with a wave of his hand, shifting with momentary incorporeality as his own attack phased through his body. 

**“Wrong move, kid.”**

Frisk fought down their panic and focused on the rapidly approaching matrix of bones, tracking the patterns of the interchanging shapes carefully, waiting until the last possible moment to dodge through a gap that had formed. They sailed in between two diamond formations, their feet clearing the attack microseconds before the bones crashed together again, recovering with a roll into a handspring. As they righted themselves, a small flair of exhilaration and satisfaction surged within their soul, immediately snuffed out by the chilling sound of the massive bone attack bouncing off of the wall only a few feet to their back. Without thinking, Frisk launched themselves into a backflip, soaring over a slicing whirlwind of shapes with barely an inch of clearance. They landed on their feet somewhat deftly, heart racing as they watched Sans’ attack dissipate and fade away, dread steadily being replaced by excitement. Frisk caught their breath as they settled back into a ready stance, trying to inhale and exhale evenly, a confidence of their far gone youth resurfacing in their mind. Their grip on the knife relaxed slightly, for the first time in years they felt capable and apt for a challenge, that maybe they stood a chance against Sans’ dedicated efforts to kill them. A small and shaky smile graced their stoic visage, their soul flickering with an ineffable drive, a long forgotten force they’d once called... _ determination _ .

Sans whistled and clapped his hands together slowly, beaming with overt sarcasm, a droll smirk spreading across his face.  “What an outstanding display of athleticism. Bout’ time you grew a lil’  _ spine _ , kid.”  he said pointedly, lacing his fingers together and popping his wrists, a brand new wave of bones called into existence just as the first attack fizzled into silvery powder. Frisk began scanning this latest attack for patterns, stuttering upon noticing that a number of the bones were fashioned from translucent blue energy, an augmentation of Sans’ signature magic that was all too familiar. The skeleton warped backwards and leaned a hand against the sheer wall of bone, lifting up his left foot and making a show of cleaning snow off of his sandals, shooting Frisk a glance loaded with a none-too-subtle challenge.  “I’m sure with your newfound confidence, dodgin’ these lame blue attacks a’ mine should be a breeze. Just stay totally still in the middle of your cute lil’ flips. No sweat, right?”  Sans asked sarcastically, grinning sidelong at Frisk with a mocking tilt of his head, his left eye flashing bright blue as the waiting wave of bones surged forward. The web of cobalt magic shifted harmlessly through Sans’ body, racing across the ice towards their target with rapidly building speed, again Frisk waited until the last moment to execute their evasion. Diving forward into a crouch and staying completely still, the cluster of blue bones they’d anticipated to form warped past them, an eerie chill crossing over their soul. Frisk immediately pushed themselves off the ground into a sprint, eyes fixed resolutely on Sans as he stood some hundred feet away, only managing a few steps before they spun to dodge the attack as it bounced off the wall of bone. 

Sans watched this incremental progress intently, a gleeful flicker in his eyes as the human began to adapt to his erratic attack patterns, dodging adeptly and holding motionless when appropriate. There was a barely perceivable shaking in his hands as he raised them, summoning a que of bone structures at his back, releasing them at random intervals and velocities as to disrupt Frisk’s careful method of evasion. Frisk entered into a state of absolute focus, forced to dodge constantly as they were enveloped in a web of reverberating attacks, each wave exhibiting its own unique pattern and creating a strange dissonant harmony. Had Frisk been merely an observer, they probably would’ve found the display of agility breathtaking, as it was they were rapidly becoming short of breath as the demands of their avoidance steadily ramped up. They continued making efforts to reach Sans as he rested against the wall of bone, partly out of sheer necessity as they made their wild dodges, partly from a grim desire to deliver a proper counter-attack. After a solid minute of maintaining and adapting their acrobatic routine, Frisk’s stamina began to falter, hissing in agony as an errant bone of blue energy singed their left leg. Catching sight of Sans at the edge of their vision as they took a brief moment to adjust, Frisk felt a surge of anger fused with desperation, the shadow within their soul urging them to take more drastic action. Frisk steeled themselves and watched the next matrix of bones race towards them, leaping straight up into a pirouette, spinning through a gap in the attack and flinging their knife towards Sans as they completed their mid-air rotation. 

Sans’ eyes widened in genuine surprise as the glinting blade lanced towards him, able to warp out of the way just before the knife impacted, burying itself chillingly deep into the sheer wall of bone. The bone attacks fizzled out in unison, crumpling into the snow and dissipating, Frisk landed back on their feet just as Sans reappeared about a dozen steps to their right. The two opponents locked eyes, Frisk was surprised to see not anger in the skeletons expression as they’d expected, instead a disturbing shine of levity and what might have been...admiration. Sans cast a glance over at the knife handle lodged precisely where the center of his chest had been only moments ago, clapping his hands together and letting out a high pitched whistle, unconsciously running a finger down the length of his sternum.  “Hehe..heh..hooo...damn, kid! That was hella close...whaddaya been doin’ all this time, inventing some crazy new sport outta ballet and knife throwin’?!”  he asked somewhat shakily, spinning on his feet and gesturing towards the knife, grinning and posing with gusto. Frisk stood still in their stance, muscles tense and posture conflicted, eyes flicking back and forth between Sans and their weapon. Their first instinct was to bolt and retrieve it, but the whispering spirit within their soul urged them to charge the skeleton instead, to rush him down before he could blink further away. This indecision was more evident than they believed, as Sans let out a brief chuckle before warping a few feet behind them, Frisk spun to see Sans rubbing his chin seemingly in deliberation.  “No need to get flustered, kiddo, I can take a hint. No more bone attacks for a while, and just because I like ya, I’ll lay off the blue magic too. Hmmm...what to use then? What to u- _ ahah!  _ Of course, how could I forget?!”  the skeleton exclaimed, feigning a mystified expression as he smacked the side of his own skull, snapping the fingers of his left hand. 

Frisk immediately felt a great convergence of magic from just above their head, followed by a low, gut wrenchingly primeval growl. A ghastly shadow enveloped them as they fearfully looked up to see...well, Frisk had never really known what they were. The massive, weathered skull of some primitive animal, the bone bleached dull white and covered in layers of marks and scratches. It’s jaws were lined with rows of chipped, viciously sharp teeth, bifurcated at the chin to allow both segments to separate and snap together at will. Sans’ swirling blue magic rolled over the surface of the bone, pooling at the base of its throat and the hollow eye sockets, occasionally the outline of phantom horns could be seen jutting from its brow. The skull seemed to move on its own accord, tilting itself to stare down at Frisk, a savage and pitiless fire burning within the pits of its ethereal eyes. It parted its jaws and let out a harrowing snarl, sending shivers of dread throughout Frisk’s body, even the shadow lurking in their soul stirred nervously. Sans snickered and shoved his hands back into his pockets, gazing up at the awaiting skull with a gleam of pride, cracking a grin at Frisk as they trembled underneath it. “Awww, look at that, kid. I think ol’ Gilbert here missed ya, it’s been so long since my boys have had someone to play with aside from their lazybones of a master, and they were always _so_ _excited_ to see you. This’ll be great for the botha’ ya, I think, some nice exercise and a chance to reacquaint yourselves. Oh, and Gil? Remember what I taught you…”  he said, addressing the looming skull as it gnashed its jaws together menacingly, raising his left hand slowly and snapping his fingers. Instantly, the air above Sans’ skull was filled with a cohort of identical beasts, each one figuratively salivating as they glare silently down at Frisk in anticipation. Sans casually sat down in the snow and let out an exaggerated yawn, snuffing out the glow of his eyes and looking Frisk up and down, a cold joy flickering in his soul at the sight of the human petrified in terror. 

“...when there’s only one  _ toy _ , you all have to share.” 

The frigid air was immediately filled with the resonate humming of the blasters charging their attacks in unison, the combined thrum growing in pitch and intensity by the second, the very snow began to shiver gently as vibrations shook the field. Frisk would’ve stood frozen in place, a pathetic evolutionary fear paralyzing them as they awaited annihilation, were it not for the presence within their soul thrashing against their bonds and galvanizing them into action. The human shook themselves out of their stunned state, spinning on their heels and racing towards the wall of bone, eye’s focusing desperately on the puny wooden handle that seemed so far away. A few of the closer blasters were able to adjust their aim slightly before the entire pack fired simultaneously, the whole arena and surrounding forest seemed to shudder at the sound of so much energy discharging, a clangorous echo reverberating throughout the Underground. Frisk was knocked forward by the focused detonation mere inches to their back, grunting in pain as their elbows barked against a sheer patch of ice, shrugging off the stumble and ignoring the ringing in their ears as best they could. Barely half a second after the last vestiges of the blasts faded, Frisk heard that ominous hum start up again, dread crawling up their spine as they felt the hollow eyes of the blasters piercing through their soul. They forced themselves to stay focused on the worn handle only meters away, straining their energy in a frantic bid to reach the wall of bone before the blasters could fire again, skidding to a dead halt as a trio of the grotesque skulls materialized directly in their path. The seething, ghostly aura of Sans’ magic radiated with growing intensity within their maws, a seismic growl heralding their impending attacks. Frisk spun rapidly in place in search of an escape route, their stomach twisting into a knot as they were encircled by the ghastly skulls, their elongated eye sockets glowing a harsh white as they unhinged their jaws to fire. 

The human stood rooted in place and stared silently at the ring of blasters, a damning realization hitting them that they wouldn’t be able to dodge the matrix of lasers, they couldn’t move fast enough to break through the line. For the first time in years...Frisk felt death closing in around them, a familiar sensation of doom crawling across their skin. Time seemed to slow to almost a standstill as the blasters unleashed their magical barrage, Frisk shutting their eyes and exhaling deeply, terror melded with a detached sense of peace falling over them. As they anticipated the beams of searing heat to obliterate them, there was a sudden, inexorable shift of power within their soul. The soft, dull red glow warped into an almost dripping sanguine, their eyelids flying open as a crimson light flashed with their iris’. Frisk’s body lunged forward and dove over the onslaught of explosive energy, roughly landing atop the closest skull and digging their heels and fingers into the bone, launching themselves away from the hyper-focused devastation to land heavily in the snow. Frisk climbed shakily to their feet as the blasters faded behind them, blinking and rubbing their head in confusion, disoriented and reeling from the sudden loss of body control. Just as they were regaining movement in their limbs, Frisk heard a chillingly twisted voice echo inside of their mind, an ache of wrath and hunger pulsating from their soul at the words... 

**_“...NOT...YET...”_ **


End file.
